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The Who's Who of Zen BuddhismSat, 21 Mar 2015 14:49:49 +0000en-UShourly1http://wordpress.org/?v=4.1.1Sangha Voices: Losing the Self – Finding the Selfhttp://sweepingzen.com/sangha-voices-losing-the-self-finding-the-self/
http://sweepingzen.com/sangha-voices-losing-the-self-finding-the-self/#commentsSat, 21 Apr 2012 02:34:14 +0000http://sweepingzen.com/?p=51700Sitting down to write this article, I realize that it’s an opportunity to reflect on why teaching socially ostracized people to meditate is a powerful practice for me. Like most of us, when I was young, even well into my twenties, I had very little capacity to be mindful of the self and the stories ...

]]>Sitting down to write this article, I realize that it’s an opportunity to reflect on why teaching socially ostracized people to meditate is a powerful practice for me.

Like most of us, when I was young, even well into my twenties, I had very little capacity to be mindful of the self and the stories it told. All I knew was that I felt rejected. There’s a story behind it.

I was eight years old when World War II ended – only a few years younger than Anne Frank, the young Jewish girl who hid out in an attic until the Nazis found her. I could have, would have, been her, if my grandparents had not immigrated.

The story that ran through my mind as a young girl was that I wasn’t pretty or good enough. After all, I didn’t have blond hair or blue eyes. As I grew up, this story was matched with another: if I tried hard enough, I would be smart in school, a good person, and likable. Since I did try, and often succeeded, I began to believe that I actually had those qualities. And yet, somewhere inside I felt that I didn’t.

When I first started to meditate, some thirty years ago, I wasn’t aware of these stories; they were just who I was. Nor was I aware that the self that generated them was empty. Instead, I thought the dark side was a defect, and the bright side was within my reach. As someone who went to therapy, and as a psychotherapist, I thought I was on the right track.

Still, something was missing in my life, only I didn’t know what it was. When I began to meditate, I found out: Each time I sat down on my cushion, I came home. That itchy, restless, homeless feeling was gone – finished.

During the past five years at Soji Zen Center, my practice has shed light on the self – and I am less attached to my stories. l also more fully embrace the last words Anne Frank wrote in her diary; “I still believe people are good at heart.” These words fit well with the Bodhisattva vow to save all sentient beings.

Losing a self, finding a self.

Practice is at the heart of Soji Zen Center. We practice when we sit zazen, meditate with koans or sit shikantaza. We practice as we support each other in our sangha and when we sweep the floors of the center. We practice within the larger community by contributing food for hungry people and offering contemplative care to sick and dying people.

What particularly draws me to this practice is teaching meditation to people who are caught in behaviors that elicit social rejection. These people may be mentally or emotionally disturbed or incarcerated for behaviors that our culture cannot manage in any other way

Under the guidance of Shuzen Sensei, Soji Zen Center has sponsored several initiatives entitled The Pathfinders Project, which was funded, in part, by a grant from the Lenz Foundation. The basic design of the program was to provide meditation training to staff of non-profit agencies working with underserved clients.

My challenge was to teach staff how to facilitate meditation. I taught by joining them as they led sessions with mothers in recovery from drug and/or alcohol addiction. Most of the women had children who were placed in foster care, which meant they were often filled with shame and despair.

As the project developed, staff reported that meditation helped the mothers find relief from their “running” thoughts. And a woman in recovery said: “There’s always someone who puts on the TV or has a nightmare in the middle of the night at this place. Meditating when I get in bed helps me feel calmer and more able to sleep.”

Distinct from, but building on this project, Soji Zen Center offered volunteer services to Partnerships for Employment, a program of Resources for Human Development’s (RHD). Partnership prepares pre-release participants from the Philadelphia Prison System training so that they become stronger candidates for jobs. This is where Soji members stepped in. We facilitated meditation and taught basic literacy and math skills.

Initially, the participants in this program were anxious about sitting in meditation. We saw that letting go of the hyper-vigilance necessary in prison was far from easy. For that reason we kept the meditation sessions short, and we were clear that the men didn’t have to close their eyes. We also grew to appreciate that the irritability, difficulty in sitting still, and attention deficit behaviors were inescapable at first, but would diminish over time. Slowly over the duration of the program, we could feel the reduction of tension in the room.

For me, it was and still is, important to ground myself in the teachings during this effort. This understanding has been key in working with Brendon. It prompted me to be mindful of the arising of the rejection/exclusion story in me or in the prisoners. I certainly didn’t want to foster it in them. The self, after all, is insubstantial, impermanent, a speck of dust. We are One Body.

The Genjokoan also became a key factor in working with Brendon. He is one of the shunned, despised, throwaway people. He spent more than half his life in prison. At age six he was on the street getting heroin for his mother and by 18 in federal prison where he spent much time in solitary confinement – in the hole.

Brendon took a leap out of his trouble when he began to read books while he was in the hole. He explained that he finally decided that how he was living wasn’t working and he began to search for answers to some big questions: Who was he? What was this life about? That led him to Socrates, Aristotle, Plato, Confucius, and finally to Buddhism and the Dali Lama.

He began to meditate while in the hole. “Once, when I was very deep in the meditation, my cell disappeared.” A big smile spread across his face as he added: “I went on a vacation from prison! From that time on, even if I couldn’t find that deep place, I knew it was there.”

Finally Brendon actually did leave the prison and life on the outside was much harder than he expected. It took at least a year for him to begin to interact with others in the RHD office. My practice became to keep contact, with a smile, a meditation, and a questioning glance when his “outcast” story arose. Only he could find his way.

A success story began to unfold in the spring of 2011. Brendon joined the group from Soji Zen Center that taught literacy and basic math to the pre-release prisoners. People in the office began to respond to him. He was paid to supervise a cleaning crew, was selected to be in a leadership development program, and just last week began working in a program for others who were shunned.

I last saw Brendon at the coffee machine. His eyes sparkled impishly as he spoke: “This morning the guy I take care of at work yelled that he was going to punch me out. And I said, pointing at the food on the table: “Look, I just made breakfast for you! Couldn’t you punch me out later?”

Back at my desk I reflected on Brendon’s comment and felt great gratitude. As I go deeper into my own practice, I, too, realize that there is always just this moment, with one body and no separation.

]]>http://sweepingzen.com/sangha-voices-losing-the-self-finding-the-self/feed/0Sangha Voices: Sangha in Prison, No One’s Programhttp://sweepingzen.com/sangha-voices-sangha-in-prison-no-ones-program/
http://sweepingzen.com/sangha-voices-sangha-in-prison-no-ones-program/#commentsTue, 21 Feb 2012 20:29:20 +0000http://sweepingzen.com/?p=43433When I received a request to write an article about the White Lotus Sangha, I didn’t know what to write—not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I have so much to say. White Lotus is the prison sangha of Nebraska Zen Center / Heartland Temple. Volunteers go to Tecumseh State Correctional Institute ...

]]>When I received a request to write an article about the White Lotus Sangha, I didn’t know what to write—not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I have so much to say. White Lotus is the prison sangha of Nebraska Zen Center / Heartland Temple. Volunteers go to Tecumseh State Correctional Institute (TSCI), Nebraska State Penitentiary (NSP), Lincoln Correctional Center (LCC), and Omaha Correctional Center (OCC). All house maximum and medium security male inmates except for OCC, which houses minimum security males. Some people call it a prison program, although I never refer to the men that way unless I am talking to the prison administration. I am not a program of Nebraska Zen Center; I am a spiritual practitioner. The inmates are not a program of Nebraska Zen Center; they are spiritual practitioners.

Many people are curious about what Zen Buddhist practice is like in a prison. In most ways, it is no different than practice on the outside. Practice is practice. The numbers are small, but the men are sincere, which is how I like it.

One big difference is the extreme flexibility you need to function within a prison system. The men receive two timeslots per week, one for worship and the other for study. Since Friday night was the volunteer night at the 4 participating White Lotus prisons, volunteers came to Nebraska State Penitentiary on Fridays, despite that it was study night, not worship night. The prison had a classroom off of turnkey, the control station that opens and closes doors and houses keys for the prison. We sat zazen in uncomfortable resin chairs made with a circular impression for our rear ends. And we sat with our shoes on. Without liturgical supplies, I clapped my hands to signal the beginning and end of zazen and kinhin. Using a notebook with a picture of a Buddhist altar as our altar, I clapped my hands in a standard roll down and then we all did standing bows to my notebook. It felt like a curtain call.

I then decided to come on Sundays, during the worship time at this prison. At first, we had one inmate doing a Tibetan style bow, another doing a curtain call, and still another who didn’t know when to stand back up. That day reinforced how important our rituals are in that they facilitate a group practice — a group functioning as one body. The men in that prison are now one of our strongest groups.

Many inmates perform the rituals, including the role of doan (the person who times zazen and plays the instruments during service) with the same skill as the practitioners at NZC. Over the past 6 years, a total of 5 inmates have sewn rakusus and vowed to dedicate their lives to living the Buddha way.

I’m a woman visiting male prisons, so many people are surprised to learn how well respected I am. The men treat me like a lady. I don’t feel threatened by them in any way. My first trip to a prison was to TSCI. Two female volunteers and I along with 3 inmates had to wait outside the religion library where our services were held for the guard to get the keys. An inmate grabbed 3 resin chairs (the kind with circular impressions for the derriere) off a large stack, set them up and motioned for the 3 ladies to sit down. What a gentleman.

The things that get through to prison inmates are the things that get through to most people. Sometimes I see the “getting through” in their faces, and their realizations are quite moving. At first some inmates see me as a powder puff, a nice lady who comes to visit the prison. They have difficulty believing that I also suffer from the 3 poisons, specifically anger. I’ve never gone to prison, lost a job, or been arrested for losing my temper, but I still suffer from the 3 poisons: greed, anger, and delusion. They are surprised and sometimes relieved that these poisons are a human thing, not just an inmate thing.

Another saying many practitioners respond to is “you are perfect just as you are (of course there is plenty of room for improvement.)” The belief that they are broken or need to be fixed is more common with prison practitioners. The belief is compounded by the association of “correction” with something negative. After all they are in the Department of Corrections, something very bad.

Most inmates think that “life will begin when I parole.” This is a variation on the themes, “life will begin when I graduate; I will be happy when I get married, get the good job, etc.” Sometimes I have to be persistent to explain to the inmates that their life has value, that they are Buddha even if they have a life sentence without parole eligibility. Yes, spending time with your buddy who just got out of segregation is Bodhisattva practice, I tell them. Helping your cell mate who is new to prison cope with decreasing visits from family is Bodhisattva practice. Showing up to sit zazen with the prison sangha is the practice of a Bodhisattva. The list goes on.

Overall, I see more similarities than differences between Zen practice in the prison and on the outside. The White Lotus Sangha is a thriving sangha due to the sincere efforts of the prison practitioners.

The blue rakusu pictured at the top of this piece was worn by a White Lotus Sangha member until he was transferred to another prison. He was no longer permitted to wear blue, and so the prison returned his rakusu to the Nebraska Zen Center, and it currently lives on Zenryu Vicki Grunwald’s home altar. She writes, “The rakusu had to be gray because blue is a gang color. Also the guards wear blue so the men cannot own this color.”

Sangha Voices marks new territory for the website, offering voices from senior practitioners throughout the American Zen community. This section of the website is faithfully maintained by editor Catherine Spaeth.